


Ink

by jjjat3am



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:49:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6036847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/jjjat3am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the ways Laurens says 'I love you'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> does finally writing fic cement my status as Hamilton trash

 

John learns pretty early on that keeping Alexander from writing is an exercise in the impossible. 

 

Everything he tries just ends up with Alexander back at his desk an hour later or swamped with work the next day. The result - Alexander taking a fitful nap or eating a bowl of soup, watching the door with longing - isn’t worth it. It makes them both irritable, and John is enough of a soldier to recognize that Alexander’s writing is integral to the war effort and to soldier morale.

 

After, all he’s a soldier and Alexander is pretty integral to _his_ morale.

 

So he gives up on keeping Alexander from his writing, but he doesn’t give up on taking care of him. He just gets sneakier about it.

 

He learns fairly early that putting a loaf of bread on a plate on the edge of the desk leaves only breadcrumbs after a few hours. The same happens to bowls of soup and pieces of hard cheese. One time, they even get some wrinkly looking winter apples, and John actually witnesses Alexander put down his quill for those.

 

It’s the number one full-proof way to get Alexander to eat properly (and the only way he doesn’t complain when John sneaks him some of his own rations - Alexander needs them more, he’s always been too skinny).

 

John learns how to sleep with the candle lit on all night. And then he learns to wake up when it flickers out, because it means Alexander’s fallen asleep over his papers and put it out with his heavy snoring.

 

He tiptoes over the warzone that is their floor (seriously though - he stepped on a pot of ink one time, Alexander almost cried), to drape one of their blankets across Alexander’s shoulders, smiling in the dark when he hears him make a content sound, snuggling further into the warmth.

 

Sometimes Alexander gets cramps in his fingers and so John learns how to cradle his hand carefully in both of his, and massage out the knots and the pain. He refrains from commenting on how that simple touch makes Alexander flush redder than anything they ever do in the intimacy of their bed.

 

He’s given up on keeping Alexander away from his writing, but sometimes Alexander remembers to take a break all by himself. Sometimes, he appears in John’s bed in the middle of the night, like a particularly warm and human ghost, stealing the covers and burying his cold nose into John’s nape. Sometimes, he whispers John’s name in the dark like a bedtime prayer, with all the intense fervency of one of his speeches, as he presses kisses to his mouth between the vowels of his name. 

 

Most of the time he’s quiet. Either because he’s afraid he’ll wake him or because he’s not entirely awake himself. He’ll put his hand over John’s chest, making a cage with his fingers over his heart, like he’s guarding his most intimate possession. 

 

And in the morning, John will find him bent over his papers again, the only proof of his rest in the ink marks from Alexander’s fingers over his heart.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://yesburrnoburr.tumblr.com/)


End file.
